


Panthera Leo Domesticus

by Wonko



Category: Holby City
Genre: Bad Poetry, Comedy, F/F, the perils of cat ownership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 10:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20833835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko/pseuds/Wonko
Summary: When Serena agreed to let Jason adopt Bernie's cat, she did so on the understanding that they were getting a kitten, not a gremlin. It turns out cat ownership has many perils including, but not limited to: inappropriate scratching, wet patches on the carpet, and baleful, aggrieved looks. Luckily Bernie is available for a consult.





	Panthera Leo Domesticus

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Olli](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19312255) by [Fanofthearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanofthearts/pseuds/Fanofthearts). 

> I had a lot to choose from for this remix challenge, but there was a fic about a cat, and I am only human. I've taken certain liberties with Ollie's name - it's spelled both with and without the e in the original, so I've picked the version I preferred.

Serena rolled over, sighing happily in that liminal space between sleep and wakefulness, snuggling more deeply under her goose down duvet. Some distant part of her was aware that it was morning, that the alarm would soon go off and she’d have to get up and face the day. But wait...no! It was her day off, wasn’t it? It was! Her lips curled into a sleepy smile. She could lie in. Spend a lazy morning in bed with a milky coffee and a 99p Kindle romance novel. Relax for once. Bliss.

She rolled onto her back, already sinking back towards sleep.

Above her, balancing precariously on the headboard, the ruiner of her peaceful morning waited for his chance.

Serena stretched slightly, her toes peeking out from beneath the duvet.

Silently, Ollie pounced.

“Aaaaagh!” Serena yelped, as all four paws of gangly teenage thug cat landed on her bladder, then bounced off to attack her unprotected feet. She pulled them back up under the duvet but not quickly enough. A dewclaw caught between her toes and drew a bright streak of blood. Ollie yelped like he was the one who had been hurt, turning to hiss at Serena who bared her teeth and hissed right back. “Jason!” she yelled. “Come and get this bloody cat of yours before I skin the bugger alive!”

She was hopping towards the ensuite, swearing darkly under her breath, when Jason appeared in the doorway. He scooped Ollie up in his arms, nuzzling and fussing him and generally showing far more concern for the stupid bloody cat than Serena felt was remotely warranted.

“_I’m _actually the injured party here you know,” she declared, then squealed loudly as her foot came down on a cold, damp patch on the carpet. Ollie’s back arched and his tail puffed up like a bottlebrush as he struggled out of Jason’s arms and dashed off like a black streak through the hallway.

“Auntie Serena, you scared him!” Jason said, his hands going automatically to his ears as Serena let out a stream of very loud and very evocative invective.

Serena forced herself to calm down, closing her eyes and counting raggedly to ten, then to twenty when that wasn’t quite enough.

“I’m sorry Jason,” she said at last, heading to the door of the ensuite and grabbing a now half empty bottle of stain and odour remover to spray on the offending patch. “He’s just peed on the carpet again, and it was a bit of a nasty shock.”

Jason sniffed. “He never does that in _my _room,” he said, as if it was some sort of terrible failing on her part that the little monster had picked her carefully chosen plush carpet on which to do his disgusting business.

“Well, whoop-de-do for that,” Serena muttered, and began spraying with a touch more vehemence than was probably necessary.

Her plans for a leisurely morning now completely shot, she decided to have a shower and get dressed. There was probably some housework she should be getting on with. Some cat related maintenance, perhaps. She sighed bitterly and deeply as she made her way downstairs, passing the untouched scratching posts and taking in the deep gouges on the bannister and the doorframe of her bedroom (not Jason’s, of course.)

Ollie was downstairs, hiding behind the TV and yowling when she even so much as thought about approaching. All in all, it was something of a relief when the ward called to say that Raf and two of the junior doctors had come down with gastroenteritis. Could she come in?

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she said, before Lou had even finished speaking.

*

With three doctors down, the ward was busy and chaotic, but Serena didn’t mind that. It made the shift go faster, and a little bit of chaos always kept her on her toes, kept her sharp. Not that she was complaining when Keller sent Bernie Wolfe down to provide some cover.

They were like ships that passed in the night at first, able to smile and say hello, but no more. But then a complex case came and and both were required in surgery together. It was their first time working in theatre together, and Serena expected the usual jostling for position and supremacy that always seemed to happen with other consultants. She’d heard about how Bernie had clashed with Jac Naylor on her first day, her objectively foolhardy but miraculously successful heroics in surgery. To her surprise, none of that was in evidence. They worked smoothly together, anticipating each other to an astounding degree, and by the time they were ready to close up Serena was feeling up to joking with Bernie about her morning.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” she said, eyes glinting over her surgical mask.

“Oh?” was the calm reply. Bernie leaned a little closer to the patient as she completed a particularly delicate suture.

“Mmm,” Serena said. “I was sure we signed up to adopt a _cat_ from you. We seem to actually have a gremlin.”

“Don’t get him wet,” Bernie replied on instinct, and Serena bit her lip to stop herself making the obvious “wet pussy” retort. She didn’t know Bernie that well, after all.

Bernie listened with increasing surprise and amusement to the litany of Ollie’s crimes as they finished the operation, scrubbed out and headed back to the office for a quick coffee break.

“Sorry,” Bernie said for the fifth or so time, as Serena turned to her computer to check her emails. “I expect he’ll settle down soon if that’s any- Serena?” Bernie trailed off, frowning at the murderous look that had just appeared on Serena’s face. “What is it?”

Serena opened her mouth, found herself unable to speak past the rage, swallowed, then tried again. “Jason,” she eventually ground out, “has written me an email. He says he thinks I should be more tolerant of Ollie’s natural instincts. He’s enclosed a poem he’s written about him.”

Bernie’s eyes gleamed. “A poem?”

A muscle jumped rhythmically in Serena’s jaw. “I hate poetry. He knows I hate poetry.”

Bernie nipped round behind Serena and peeked over her shoulder so she could see the screen.

> _Panthera Leo Domesticus_
> 
> _By Jason Haynes_
> 
> _With a lazy stretch, he surveys a savannah_
> 
> _of flannel sheet. There. Prey. A wriggling_
> 
> _toe, pink and fleshy and thrumming with_
> 
> _blood. He pounces. The toe is warm_
> 
> _between his teeth. The prey struggles._
> 
> _He bites down harder. A squeal reverberates_
> 
> _and then he is lifted from the kill_
> 
> _by giant hands. Displeasure rumbles_
> 
> _in his mighty throat._
> 
> _The giant dares to stroke his_
> 
> _shaggy mane. He creaks open his great jaws_
> 
> _to expel a resounding roar. Released,_
> 
> _he finds himself before fresh meat. At last._
> 
> _Sated, he sleeps soundly in the shadow of a chair._

“It’s...creative,” Bernie said eventually, feeling like she might rupture some vital internal organ with the strain of holding her laughter in.

“It’s abominable!” Serena retorted. “It doesn’t even rhyme!”

That was the final straw. Doubling over and holding her stomach, Bernie let out a series of braying, honking laughs that proved that God - if she existed - really did have a sense of humour. It was an extraordinary sound, and Serena found it impossible to stay angry. Within moments she was roaring with laughter, tears streaming down her face, clutching Bernie’s shoulder with an iron grip.

Long minutes later, when it had all subsided, Serena wiped her streaming eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. “Tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? You can see the little monster in action - maybe give me some advice?”

Bernie smiled warmly. “I’d love to.”

*

Ollie came running to Bernie the moment she came through the door, purring like a train and rubbing up against her skinny jean-clad leg over and over until you could see the shed fur layer clearly, despite it being black on black. She handed Serena the bottle of wine she’d brought - Shiraz; she’d asked around - and immediately bent to her knees to fuss over him.

“Hello sweetheart,” she cooed, rubbing behind his ears as he pushed his head into her hands. “Oh, you’ve missed me have you?”

A short gasp from the doorway into the living room made both Bernie and Serena look up. Jason was standing there, his lip trembling, face pale as a ghost.

“You’ve come to take him back,” he said forlornly. “Haven’t you?”

Serena’s heart ached. What with one thing and another, she’d completely forgotten to tell Jason they were having company for dinner. Bernie rose to her feet, shaking her head.

“No, Jason, of course not,” she said. “Just visiting. I heard it was World’s Strongest Man tonight and I remembered you’d invited me along to watch - is that all right?”

Jason visibly brightened, and Serena relaxed slightly. “Why don’t you two take Ollie into the living room?” she suggested. “I just need to put the finishing touches on dinner. Twenty minutes, all right?”

Serena left the connecting door open so she could listen in on Bernie and Jason’s conversation as she cooked. She drifted in and out at first, but began to take more of an interest when they started to discuss Ollie’s behaviour.

“He doesn’t seem to like Auntie Serena much,” Jason was saying, which Serena felt was something of an understatement.

“I’m sure he does really,” Bernie replied diplomatically. “She was saying he hasn’t been using his scratching posts? And he’s peeing on the carpet?”

Jason made an affirmative sort of noise. “I don’t know why he does that,” he said. “He has a litter tray, and the scratching posts are top of the line.”

There was an apologetic note in Bernie’s tone when she spoke again. “It’s probably my fault,” she said. “Where I live, it’s a lot quieter and safer to let cats roam outside. He’s probably used to doing his business outside and scratching his claws on tree trunks and such. This must be a lot for him to get used to.”

Jason went quiet at that, obviously processing what Bernie had said. Serena chose that moment to call them both for dinner, and she and Bernie made conversation while Jason picked slowly at his shepherd’s pie.

Bernie and Serena had discovered two ex-colleagues in common and had landed on a conference they’d both been at some years ago when Jason finally spoke again.

“Auntie Serena,” he said slowly and carefully.

“Yes love?” she said, a little nervously. He had the air of having got an idea into his head.

Jason stared at his plate. “I’m sorry my cat has been destroying things and attacking your feet and peeing on your carpet,” he said. “I said when we adopted him that he’d be my responsibility, and I haven’t been living up to that. I apologise.”

Serena frowned in bemusement, turned to Bernie who looked just as surprised, then turned back to Jason again. “Oh...that’s all right Jason,” she said. “I mean, he’s just being a cat isn’t he?”

Jason shook his head. “No,” he said. “I have to take responsibility for his behaviour, and I will.” He nodded once, firmly. “I’m going to train him.”

Serena blinked once, then twice. “To...to train him?” she asked. Could you even train cats? Were there kitten obedience schools out there? Was someone making a killing on a reality show about monstrous cats somewhere deep in the alcoholics and insomniacs region of the TV schedules?

Jason turned to Bernie. “Will you help me?” he asked.

Bernie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Uh…” she began, glancing at Serena.

Bernie, helping Jason? Bernie around more often to have adult conversation with in the evenings? Bernie here to take on some of the load of entertaining Jason and the bloody cat every single night? Serena nodded once, her eyes pleading.

“Of course I will, Jason,” Bernie finished, smiling.

And that was how Bernie Wolfe became a regular dinner guest in the Campbell-Haynes-Ollie household.


End file.
